


Tangled Up in Blue (and You)

by Sangerin



Category: Hustle, Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Con Artists, F/F, Femslash, Spies, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-27
Updated: 2008-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangerin/pseuds/Sangerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the reason surveillance is usually done in pairs: two people spells "keep away".  One doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Up in Blue (and You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mab2701](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mab2701).



> Spoilers: Vague to 3.1 of _Spooks_. Set sometime in the first two seasons of _Hustle_.

  
Lillian is PA to a high-flying executive staying in the best suite in the hotel. There's an expense account for food and drinks and her boss is off at a lengthy and in-depth meeting.

(Stacie knows exactly how much money is in the kitty, how much is needed for the next job, and how long they have before the hotel bar wants payment on their tab.)

  
Cynthia is a mid-level manager in a multinational. Their annual meeting is at a hotel a few blocks away, but it was overbooked and so a number of the attendees are 'living out' at the London Park.

(Harry wanted to give his operatives some time off to recover, but Adam isn't quite up to speed yet and some surveillance needed to be done. He sent Zoe.)

*

(Observation is key. When you notice someone in the foyer and the bar a little too often, it's time to start packing up and leaving town. But not everyone who haunts the lobby is a plod. Besides, they've outwitted the plods before. And not all plods – potential plods – are quite as attractive as this one.)

(How she hates this sort of surveillance. She calls down muttered curses on Adam's head and wishes she believed they would come true. Hotel lobbies aren't made for this sort of thing. The chairs are too deep, they're made for sinking into, not for staying alert and commanding a view of your surrounds. In a hotel lobby one isn't meant to be interested in the surrounds, only in your own newspaper. The bar is slightly better. Get the right seat, and you can still cover the lobby. In a fashion.)

  
'Do you mind if I join you?'

Cynthia looks up. (Awkward. This is the reason surveillance is usually done in pairs: two people spells "keep away". One doesn't.)

'Dreadful of me, I know,' the woman continues, 'but I've had one too many drinks alone in hotel bars.' She leans in, confidential. 'Might protect us both from unwanted advances.'

(If only she can keep her mind on the job. This woman looks distinctly distracting.) 'Be my guest,' says Cynthia.

They sit in silence with their drinks. Cynthia casually admires the other woman's blouse – the cut and the fabric and the way that it drapes. They discuss designers.

'My name is Lillian,' she says, holding out her hand.

'Cynthia,' she replies, shaking Lillian's hand. She goes back to playing idly with the straw in her drink. (Ice water. It's early afternoon, so it wouldn't be seen as odd. Although ice water can look alcoholic. Or some alcohol looks like water. She tries to subtly look past Lillian, to the foyer she's meant to be watching.)

'Do you travel much?' Lillian asks. (Watches her face carefully for telltale signs: flickering eyes, slow swallows. Sees none of these things, just an exquisite face with a slow, simmering smile.)

'Quite a bit. You know modern management: they're always wanting to hold strategy meetings. And you?'

'Too much. Living in hotels like these – it gets tiring.'

'I can imagine. Is your boss at least a good man to work for?'

'He's sweet, really,' says Lillian, 'but demanding, you know.' Lillian props an elbow on the table and leans forward. The blouse Cynthia found so interesting as an ice-breaker reveals just a glimpse of lace beneath it.

(The target walks into the lobby. Stops at the desk to chat up the receptionist.) 'Can I get you something to drink?' she asks Lillian.

'No, let me – it's on my boss's tab.' (They're safe: the tab's not high enough yet to concern management. They'll work out a way not to pay.) She looks at her watch. 'Champagne, perhaps: doesn't seem too early to me.' Cynthia nods and they smile at each other.

  
(Zoe pulls a phone from her bag. Dials, speaks quickly to Ruth, who has a spook taxi co-ordinated to pick up the target. Zoe's done, and she can hear the smile in Ruth's voice when she says 'Be good.' Lillian returns with champagne and Zoe tucks the phone away.)

(There's a subtle change when she brings the champagne. Cynthia is putting a phone back in her purse and suddenly she's more relaxed, before a sip of alcohol has been taken. It puts Stacie on edge – what did she miss?)

  
Cynthia drops her bag to the floor and rolls her eyes as she takes the champagne flute from Lillian. 'My superior. Keeping tabs on me. From Montreal, of all places.'

Lillian smiles. 'Is there something you're supposed to be doing right now?'

'Nothing I can't do later,' says Cynthia, raising her glass to Lillian. 'Cheers.'

  
(Definitely more relaxed. But she simply doesn't seem threatening. And perhaps Albie would warn her away, but now Cynthia's begun to casually reach out to touch Stacie's arm and there's starting to be invitation in her eyes. And she's tired of being a woman among men.)

(She shouldn't be doing this. Maybe Malcolm's got the place wired. Maybe Tom will bring her more photos and she'll be humiliated all over again. And she knows she's still mourning Mariella and wanting revenge against Tessa and that she's in no fit state, but _God_ how she wants this.)

  
They talk for another hour at least – stories about bosses and travels and parts of the world that they've seen. Lillian gushes about the harbourside part of Santiago in Chile, called Valparaiso: tells Cynthia about tiny cafes hidden in alleys, and the gorgeous apartment she once lived in there. Cynthia talks about long hikes in the Scottish highlands, and a survival course she once was sent on as part of the management training for her company – one of those bonding exercises.

  
(Ash is in the suite with Albie, and Danny will be back any time now, and she can't see how she can possibly bring Cynthia in. But her story was that her boss was out, so she has to hope that Cynthia will offer her room first, because there's only so much longer that she can sit here with Cynthia smiling at her and brushing the underside of her wrist.)

(The budget didn't stretch to actually getting a room at the London Park. Adam said the hotel was busy enough that no one would ask questions of her. Zoe has to get out of here, _with_ Lillian, but she can understand that a PA wouldn't want to invite someone back to a suite that has to be shared with a boss who might return at any moment. "Cynthia"'s credit cards go back to Five, but she knows how to intercept the accounts when she has to. It will look like she's checking for messages – especially if she stalls Lillian for a minute or two at the start.)

  
'Come upstairs with me?' says Cynthia, and when Lillian nods, she leans forward. 'Get another bottle of that champagne and meet me at the lifts,' and Lillian smiles.

*

Lillian's legs are long, oh so long. They go on forever, and Zoe follows them with her tongue, up and up and up. Ankles (fine-boned and slender). Calves (smooth and muscled, tight from too many years of wearing ludicrously high heels). Knees that need to be kissed, and the skin behind them stroked and caressed until Lillian can't keep from kicking out. Thighs that are ridiculously toned. Zoe could worship Lillian's body all day and into the night.

Cynthia's touch is feather-light, whether it's her tongue or her fingers gliding over Stacie's skin. Her fingertips feel like whispers against Stacie's breasts and along her torso. Her short hair brushes against heated, naked skin, and it all combines to set every nerve-ending in Stacie's body tingling. And all the gentleness is doing is making Stacie want it all harder and harsher. When Cynthia moves back up Stacie's body, kisses her, Stacie tangles her hands in Cynthia's hair and rolls them over so that she's on top. Cynthia draws in a breath, and then smiles, and Stacie knows that they both want the same thing.

Lillian scrapes her teeth across Zoe's nipples, just roughly _enough_ , and Zoe closes her eyes and allows herself to focus on nothing more than the sensations. No Mariella, no Tessa, she just wants to be here in the moment with Lillian. Feeling the palm of Lillian's hand press against her hipbone, and the other hand lower and lower, fingers inside her, moving, moving, Lillian's breath against her damp skin. She can see the edge but hasn't quite reached it, until Lillian shifts on top of her again, props herself up with the hand that was on Zoe's hip, and her black hair forms a curtain around her face, brushing against Zoe. They kiss again and Lillian tucks her head against Zoe's shoulder while Zoe lifts her hips just a little bit more and finally, finally, Zoe lets go of herself and just _is_. Until Lillian kisses her gently and wipes the hair from her eyes.

Cynthia looks exhausted, and Stacie almost regrets taking control earlier, if it's going to mean that Cynthia is too tired to return the favour, but she tells herself to be patient, and gently strokes and caresses Cynthia's belly and the undersides of her breasts, while Cynthia returns to earth. When she smiles lazily, a knot ties itself in Stacie's stomach, and she can't quite believe where she is. In another woman's bed, her clothes strewn on the floor, a bottle of champagne growing warm on the table where they left it when they walked in because neither of them could wait a moment longer. And now Cynthia is stretching across Stacie, her movements languid but with fire in her eyes, and the kiss she shares with Stacie is no gentler than their earlier, frenzied kisses. While their mouths are still battling together, tongues duelling, Cynthia's hands move down Stacie's body, stopping to stroke and lightly pinch her breasts, glide across her belly, and then to play on her thighs, slipping up and down but never quite reaching the places Stacie wants them to reach. And then Cynthia breaks the kiss, and her mouth follows the path made by her hands, all the way down to where her fingers slide inside Stacie, and Stacie's knees pull up and fall open and her hands tangle in Cynthia's hair and she arches her back, just a little, pushing her pelvis up into Cynthia's mouth and her grasp and if Albie and Danny and even Mickey walked in at this moment Stacie wouldn't care one bit, because this is _so_ different, and _so_ good, and she never wants it to stop even though she knows that it will. And when she catches Cynthia on the back with her heel, they both laugh, tiredly, even though they know Cynthia will show a bruise there tomorrow.

  
And none of it is quite enough.

*

They're in Cynthia's room, so she can lay in the bed, fresh from a shared shower, watching Lillian get dressed. It's late in the afternoon and four calls have gone through to Lillian's voicemail, but Zoe won't let her go without one more kiss. Lillian leans against the wall or is pushed or falls against it. She's fully dressed and Zoe is only in her underwear, and Zoe pushes her hips against Lillian's and wishes that Lillian didn't have to leave.

Lillian asks her how long she'll be at the London Park. Or in London at all.

'I'm leaving tomorrow morning,' she says, but she grabs one of Cynthia's business cards and scribbles a number on it. 'But call me when you're in town.'

Lillian takes the card and slips it beneath her blouse to tuck it into the filmy white lace bra. Their eyes lock as Lillian pats the place over her breast where the card now sits.

'Or,' says Cynthia, before Lillian can reach for the door, 'You can come back sometime tonight. I'll still be here. And I'll put the champagne on ice.'

Lillian nods. 'I'll try to get away by nine,' she says softly, and her smile makes Zoe's stomach clench with anticipation. Lillian slips through the door.

When the door shuts, Zoe takes a breath. She's paid for the night, after all (or rather, Five has). This isn't the sort of place that rents rooms by the hour.

  
In the hall outside, Stacie leans against the wall, waiting for the elevator. If Mickey's messages are anything but truly urgent, he's going to find himself in hospital. Or alternately, paying for the shopping spree Stacie intends to have at some high-quality lingerie stores between now and nine o'clock.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my GF before she was my GF. ~kisses~
> 
> Between this and [Here & Now](http://sangerin.livejournal.com/578002.html) I seem to currently be incapable of straightforward narrative. But these characters do make straightforward narrative rather difficult (and damn, this was difficult.) Also, it somehow became all about the white space between the paragraphs.
> 
> The title is mostly from a Bob Dylan song. I've heard The Whitlams' cover version, but not the Dylan original. But it was the title that jumped into my head almost before I'd started writing, even though I'm sure it's been overused for fic.


End file.
